the bloody sock

Those of you who don't know and/or don't care about baseball, may be slightly lost or annoyed at the baseball references in this entry, but bear with me.

I am a baseball fan. I'm one of those unusual people who likes nothing better than to sink into the couch and watch this slow game for 3 or 4 or 5 hours at a time. Further, I am a Yankee fan. Have I lost readership yet? This statement may evoke as much controversy as writing about religion. Go ahead, send your comments. I have my reasons and I'm not afraid of your jeers. With this baby on the way, I suppose my plan to run off with Bernie Williams (Yankee center fielder) has hit yet another stumbling block. I know, I'm supposed to be goo-goo over Derek Jeter (short stop). Well, you can keep 'im; I'll take Bernie any day. I'm used to falling for the guy outside of the media hype, the one no one else pays much attention to. While everyone wrote letters to Davey Jones, I had a crush on Mickey, but now I'm really off topic.

See, Bernie is a quiet hero (plus he's a cutie and he plays classical guitar, but again, I drift.). I get the distinct feeling he's aware that he plays a team sport and might even be aware that baseball isn't all there is to life, although to date I have no concrete evidence of such except the guitar playing. What in the hell am I getting at? That's right, it's time once again to play everyone's favorite game: Let's Take Apart the Unspoken Assumptions of American Society So As to Better Understand Their Hidden Power Over Ourselves and Our Unborn Child!! (cue music)

- I'll take Stupid Baseball Players for $200, Alex.
- This stupid baseball player has been cheered for pitching through excruciating pain and undeniable, and possibly permanent injury out of some backward-ass loyalty to his team.
- Who is Curt Schilling of the Boston Red Sox?
- That is correct.

Quick background: Curt Schilling's ankle is messed up in a serious way. With special shoes and doctors suturing up the wrong tendon, so that it won't heal (that wouldn't allow for play) but just to literally hold it together until the end of the Series, he's been able to stay on the mound "for his team." As if we needed any clearer sign regarding the disgusting determinism of this move, in each of the last two games he's pitched, his ankle has bled red through his sock throughout the game. (Thank you, Fox, for panning down to it every 30 seconds). Yeah, a charming coincidence for an underdog team named the Red Sox, if you go in for that perverse kind of metaphor. Forget for a second that I'm a Yankee fan. Forget that Curt Schilling is one of my least favorite Red Sox players, second only to Pedro Martinez, who I think is a reprehensible person while in uniform. Shouldn't Schilling be taking care of his health?

Am I the only one? Everyone else is praising the guy up and down for his heroism. I say this is no hero. Schilling's become fond of crediting God after his impressive performances (as if any deity worth the title would give a rat's ass who won the World Series, as if to imply perhaps that god is not with the Cardinals?). But I have news for ya, Curt, it's the Devil that came to your door, and you answered. Sold you fucking ankle for a baseball game.

We look at these people who play through physical (or for that matter, emotional) pain as incredibly dedicated. They receive our undying gratitude. We strive to be like them. The Major League Baseball website has even written an article listing other athletic heroes and what injuries they have played through to win, naming the list "profiles in courage". These people are seen as masters of mind over matter. But here's the real heart of it. It's not mind over matter, it's just ego over matter. An incredible, incredible ego that says, I can't possibly surrender to circumstance or relinquish my chance to make a mark; and my team can't do it without me.

We are addicted to our individualism. So addicted we play "team" sports to see how far we can stick out. I've had experience with more collectively-minded societies and, at times, they aren't all that and a bag of chips either. – No one willing to stand forward and take credit or responsibility. No one willing to step out of line to forge a unique path that speaks more readily to one's soul than where the masses are going. But in the end, I don't want this jackass Schilling as a role model for my kid. No one's surviving freezing temperatures lost in the Sierras here. No one's talking someone else off a ledge. It's a baseball game.

One of my big short-term concerns is that I will only be able to push aside the physical pain of birth to the ego level, which won't be enough. If we truly want to sink into our power and go where respectable heroes dwell, we need to get deeper than that. And when there's blood on our socks, we need to sit down.